Chapter Text
Everything had always been perfect. That’s all the two little boys, signalling to each other through their windows across the street, had ever known. Electric Blue eyes meeting sea green as they broke the surface of the water on a hot fourth of July day– overexerting themselves in their struggle over a singular flamingo floaty. Cool droplets cascading down their faces as their mothers watched on, sunhats drawn low, wine in hand, scolding them light heartedly. Friendship, laughter, the promise of family– the deceiving blanket of safety that had coddled them both from birth.
Their mothers had been inseparable since college— two bright, reckless girls who swore they'd never let life pull them apart. Wherever Jason’s mother Beryl went, Sally followed– that's how they ended up side by side in a sleepy neighbourhood on the outskirts of Manhattan, houses divided by a short expanse of gravel road. Their windows faced each other, always open, as if even the air between them refused to let go.
And whatever decision Percy's mother Sally made, Beryl followed without question– out of loyalty, or maybe out of guilt. It was that loyalty that left Percy with an abusive father, and his mothers coroners report detailed with suicide.
Jason remembers that day. It was the first day of his life he remembers feeling genuine grief. It was a Tuesday, a few days out from Christmas break. He had come home from school, backpack still shrugged tightly over his shoulders. Percy hadn’t been there. He had assumed he had faked being sick, Jason now still vaguely remembers Percy’s favourite saying, “Fourteen’s the new freedom”.
But when he walked into the kitchen and found his mother sitting at the island, tear stained face distraught, he knew something was horribly wrong. Beryl had looked up at him, eyes red rimmed and offered one single whisper.
“Sally’s killed herself.”
Jason's world froze, static filling his ears. His limbs locked in place as his face crumpled, eyes immediately glistening. Sally. Aunty Sally. Gone. Dead. Passed away. No matter how he phrased it– it would never sound right.
He knows what his next questions should have been. How did this happen? Are you ok? But there was one thought that consumed him whole.
“Where’s–Percy?” He managed, his voice cracking, as tears began to dampen his pale cheeks.
“Oh honey…” Beryl had whispered, cusping Jason's cheek and wiping his tears away with her thumb.
The rest of the night was a blur. Whether it was his brain blocking out traumatic events, or his sheer unwillingness to remember any part of one of the worst days of his life. He remembers a dark room– Percy's room. It was utterly trashed. Shattered glass peppered the wooden floors, its shards illuminated only by the moon's rays creeping through the cracks in the curtains. Whether it was from bottles or photo frames– Jason didn't ask. Nor Percy would ever answer.
He had found Percy curled on his side on the floor next to his bed. He laid there boneless, eyes swollen and red. His face remained emotionless. His rage had subsided, leaving behind an empty–hollow ghost of the once vibrant boy he had known. He had stayed that night, wordlessly pulling Percy's head into his lap, carding his slender fingers through Percy's raven locks. Jason had seen Sally do this to calm Percy down before. Jason knows he would never compare.
From that day onwards, Percy was stuck living with his father Gabe. Jason always had an off feeling about Gabe. From the snippets of conversation he had heard from his mother and Sally, the Jacksons had been having marital problems since before Percy was born. Jason hadn't known the extent. And he never found out before it was too late. He had always found it strange when he was younger, and Sally would show up in the middle of the night, Percy clutching onto her leg. Nor did he ever complain because almost immediately, the adults would usher Percy and Jason upstairs to play before retreating into the kitchen with hushed whispers.
He had been an ignorant child. Who wasn't? Didn’t everybody want to believe they would have the perfect life forever? That they would become an astronaut or a pirate, marry a pretty girl and spend the rest of their days in a mansion by the beach? His best friend flinching whenever someone brushed past him or raised his voice didn’t fit into his fantasies, so he ignored it. Because maybe if he ignored it enough, it would go away.
Except it never went away. It got worse.
By 10 years old, Jason couldn’t pretend he wasn’t seeing the bruises that littered Percy's tan skin. Couldn’t pretend he hadn't caught glimpses of the scars and the purple darkening Percy tried oh–so desperately to hide. But whenever he asked, Percy would deflect. Jason wasn’t stupid though. He could put two and two together. He could see how Percy would leave Beryl's house clean and happy, go home, for the night and return with a new piece of himself shattered. Like crossing the singular street between their houses drew the line between heaven and hell.
Even when he confronted his mother about it, truly out of deep concern for his bestfriend–his brother–, Beryl had looked at him with sad eyes. She had clasped her hands together, staring blankly at the table in front of her. She told him Sally hadn’t wanted anyone involved. Afterall, Sally was a victim of Gabe’s manipulative coercing, and Beryl even against her better judgement, was loyal to Sally– honouring her wishes. Maybe if Beryl had seen the bruises wrapping around Percy’s wrist, the way he would brace when he messed up as if receiving a hit– she would have taken action. Should Jason have told her? Even if he did– would things have changed?
Would Sally be dead? Would Percy have emotionally withdrawn and isolated himself when he was 14? Would Jason be more empathetic and try harder to keep his friendship with Percy instead of neglecting him for his own self benefit? Would they still be best friends now at 16?
If anyone asked, Percy and Jason would say they grew apart.
It was normal per se. Adolescence struck, interests changed. They were no longer the inseparable duo childhood had produced. No longer lanky limbs and crooked smiles, no longer the two boys who followed their mothers legacy of lifelong friendship.
They were just Jason and Percy. Freshly-turned juniors of Olympus high, one captain of the football team, the other the school's star swimmer. They barely speak, rarely exchanging pleasantries when passing in the halls.
They wouldn’t mention how they were practically brothers for 14 years. Wouldn’t mention how Beryl still called Percy her “second son”. Wouldn’t mention how Percy developed depression after his moms death and refused to tell anyone, isolating himself from the world– from Jason. Wouldn’t tell anyone how Jason felt discarded, how he moved on, found new friends– popular friends.
They still saw each other, sometimes at least. Stolen glances through their opposite windows before curtains were hastily drawn, Jason watching Percy descend down the road, disappearing into the inky night when he needed an escape.
They weren’t close like they used to be. Hell– they weren't close at all. They were strangers. They had been for three years. And Jason doubted this year was going to be any different.